After the brush with the law at Wood Green, we press on our way to closing up the gap on the Piccadilly Line.  Next stop Turnpike Lane.   Upstairs, the signage to the bus station above the station is enthusiastically huge and red, the font sized for the hard of thinking, the visual equivalent of shouting in someone's face 'it's behind you, stoopid'.

Sunday morning and I was off on a two-fold mission...to both check out venues for to hatch my Plans for World Domination and to collect a few more stations on the Piccadilly line.  With brain busy with Evil Machinations, I blithely got on the first bus from L's house which turned out to be a 19.  Realised that this didn't go via South Ken, missed the stop at Knightsbridge so took the chance to hop out at Hyde Park Corner instead.

Always loved the phrase 'Hyde Park Corner'; it's another Olde London Place name that reeks of Dickensian streets scenes and pea-soupers.  It's also one of the stations collected on a disposable camera back in December 2006, that turned out to be little but grey fog, so this seems a fortuitous chance to collect it again properly.  I was sad not to have had the pictures I took of the tiling come out in any usable form..

HPC is one of those stations that doesn't have a surface building.  Instead there's a portico into the netherworld, and because  this is a nice part of London there are graceful leaves carved into the walls and it doesn't smell of wee.

I've been sulking about these stations since my return from London in mid-December.  Stupidly I forgot my camera on my recent trip, and then the battery gave out on B's digital after the assault on the East London Line...so in order to continue the project was forced into getting a cheapee disposable at Knightsbridge before my trip to Cambs to deliver a rather fine banyan to midnightxpress. 

How quickly one adjusts to the instant playback and gratification of the digital age.  However there was a pleasant sense of tension and anticipation to have to put the film in for development and wait...the frisson of expectation when the envelope of pictures arrived, but oh! the crushing disappointment - most of the shots are rubbish.  Not rubbish in that they are poor composition but worse in that they are mostly blank - dark, grainy and unreadable rubbish.  Some shots I remember taking are missing altogether - presumably because they are just blank grey exposed film with no visible image as such present.

Heading from King's Road take the 11 bus to Knightbridge to get Piccadilly Line to KX for a day over in Cambs with G.




Photo is eventually taken for me by studenty type in need of warming up, who is waiting outside the station for a rally to protest at Harrod's re-opening their fur department. He tries to convert me, giving me an anti-fur leaflet - perhaps I looked a little too much a fashionista in vintage 40's dress to care about the evils of the fur trade - and I tell him that the only time I've come close to being arrested was for bricking a fur shop window in Plymouth as a nipper.



Anyway, once underfed protester has decided I am not a Pawn of Evil, and we've had a good chat about consumerism and clothes production he consents to doing the pic for me. Sadly, as I am enjoying our mutual ranting session, I have a train to catch, so protester waves me off, actually bumping fists with me and saying 'solidarity!' as I head underground.

The picture above is taken from the CD of the developed film, rather than usual digital camera, giving a slightly different quality to the image. 

...a day for travel to visit cherished friend meant passing through King's Cross. Coming home, full of flapjacks, the usual issue of how to get the shot that proves the visit arose.

In not normally a shy person (no giggling, now) and London is full of tourists taking snaps, but somehow asking a stranger to take a picture of oneself doing something daft and un-touristy feels stupid, and I can't seem to explain myself this evening with anything approaching grace. Asking strangers also means worrying about two things - firstly, will they just bugger off with one's camera and secondly, as this is nominally an art project, I'm often at the mercy of the photography skills of random personage.

You can stand about looking like a vain fool as you try to take a photo of yourself that's not blurred and has the necessary signage.



I failed...got bored with increasingly crappy pics...

Luckily, I accosted a chap who despite bemusment was more than willing to help, and took great pains to get both me and the signage in. Very gentlemanly type, who then dashed off to get his train. I'm thinking I might get little cards printed to explain what I'm up to that I can hand to the people I bother for aid.



Headed off down the Piccadily line to scrounge curry and rice. All in all, a good day.

Recent sojourn to the US afforded the opportunity to collect one more:



ooOOooo, aren't a happy little camper...

By my body clock it is about half five in the morning. My lipstick holding up well despite two on-board meals. Unable to freshen said macillage as stupidly forgot to pack it in my suitcase and so had to hand it in to security at the airport. While part of me revels in the idea that scarlet lipstick is a prohibited substance, I'm less than chuffed at having to give up a £14 Dior lipgloss...but at least the Rimmel 'Eternity' was pretty much exhausted. Judicious use of 'bobby pins' meant the hat didn't budge despite napping on the flight...now that's the mark of a true diva...




Hatton Cross has marvellous free porters, of which I was very grateful. Nice Polish chap lugged my green alien pod of a suitcase for me. Anyone bitching at the numbers of Polish immigrant workers should be made to carry their own luggage. Course, no such luck further down the line getting out again to pick up train connection...